"I shall see what can be done to accommodate you."

"You better, if you don't want me carving my own path." 

"Then it is for both my job security and my own peace of mind."

"More enjoyable all around."

"That as well."

She giggles.

Then to bed?

To bed.

Despite her days of unconsciousness, Svetka sleeps soundly that night. Her dreams are full of shadowy figures with hooked claws beckoning to her, though she can't recall any details upon awakening.

More travel, the next day?

More travel. 

It's two hundred miles from the front to the Little Palace, even along direct roads. With the backroads - they'll be a week and a half at least, possibly more, even with the harsh pace they're setting. That they're not traveling with the army, that they're not spending time making and breaking camp - that saves time, but not as much as someone in a hurry might prefer.

As long as they don't get attacked again.

Svetka doesn't mind riding with the Darkling.

Good. She likes having Svetka with her - and her horses are strong enough to carry them both, though they end up spending somewhat more time on the younger, more spirited one. 

They're able to avoid further conflict. The worst they encounter on the way is sleeping rough, or a day of rain.

Os Alta, the capital of Ravka, is a city divided in two, much like the country. The outer ring is where the lower class resides, the dirt roads winding and twisting around the buildings that were built wherever and however they could. Most are only one or two stories high with thatched roofs, similar to other villages. The inner ring, in contrast, has wide, straight streets paved in cobblestone, with stone and brick buildings with slate roofs laid out in orderly lines surrounded by gardens. At the center is the Grand Palace, the home of Ravka's rulers for the past few hundred years, the Lantsov dynasty. It's by far the largest building in the city, sprawling and tall and gilt all over.

The Little Palace, home of Ravka's Grisha and their destination, stands nearby. It's positively modest compared to its neighbor, though still far, far finer than anywhere Svetka and Val have been before.

She takes them directly to the Little Palace, telling Svetka as they ride in, "The king will likely want to meet you tomorrow, or possibly the day after. I'll try to get you more than a few hours of warning, though, and we can rehearse court norms today once we're settled here."

Which might have been related to why she had them camp early last night, rather than pushing through - it's shortly before noon.

"What's he like?"

"Vain. Petty. Shallow. He cares quite a lot about how he's seen, and not as much about how he does. He holds grudges, and he's dismissive or cruel to staff. He lacks physical courage, and he's risk adverse."

"But he's stalwart when he needs to be, and at least he's not a hotheaded glory hound like many kings are - he won't pick wars he isn't sure he can win."

"So... not good but not bad enough that he needs to be overthrown?"

"He's a normal king. Not a great king, but - normal."

Slow nod.

"Though," she whispers in Svetka's ear, definitely not audible over the horse, "A thing doesn't have to be needed to be desirable."

"A subtle distinction."

"A very important one." She strokes Svetka's side. 

Shiver!

She's still not used to that, even after a week and a half of riding.

Tiny smirk.

"We'll be dismounting soon," she says as they turn and approach the stables. "You must be sore."

"It'll be good to have some time to stretch my legs."